


Loved With a Love That Was More than Love

by writesaboutboys



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, i was listening to ke$ha and this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesaboutboys/pseuds/writesaboutboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That one fic where Harry is turning 18 and he still doesn’t know what love is”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loved With a Love That Was More than Love

**Author's Note:**

> I’m pretty sure Harry wasn’t even in London let alone with Grimmy on his 18th birthday but it’s my story so leave me alone. Sorry for the inaccuracy. Also there is no plot. Quote comes from my soul mate, Edgar Allan Poe.

**“** How did you know you were in love?” Harry asks laying across Nick’s bed on the eve of his 18th birthday. Nick scoffs with a “How would I know?” And Harry laughs, because  _true_  Nick’s never been in a real relationship, but he has to have been in love before. “You’ve never been in love before?” Harry inquiries, sitting up a tad to see Nick in front of his closet picking out an outfit (for what Nick calls “the last hurrah before man hood, so it has to be great Harry”).

Nick settles [next](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33016500827/title-loved-with-a-love-that-was-more-than) to Harry on his bed before, “Of course I have, love. But it’s really not what it’s cracked up to be.” And Harry ponders that for awhile and stares at Nick a bit, “That’s what I guessed. I see it as being this big huge  _deal_ , but when it actually happens you’re kinda like ‘hey this isn’t the love I signed up for’ and it’s kinda a let down, unless you get exactly what you want, but—that never happens. And really what is love even. Like if you looked it up in the dictionary, it would say something like ‘a strong like for something’ and that’s really not right, if you think about. Because like and love are taken as two different things. Like, if I went up to someone and said ‘I like you’ it wouldn’t be taken the same way as if I went up to someone and was like ‘I love you’ so really why is there even a definition for love, because it’s like beauty really. Like ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ why isn’t there [a quote](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33016500827/title-loved-with-a-love-that-was-more-than) like ‘love is in the heart of the beholder’ and like, I don’t know and I’m only 17 and I should stop talking, because I’m rambling.”

And it takes Nick a minute to comprehend what Harry-this fucking  _17_  year old- just told him and really something more intelligent should come out of his mouth, “Haven’t you been in love before?” And Harry freezes, because he knows he’s talking about Louis-he thinks he was in love with him. Everyone thought Harry was in love Louis, hell  _Harry and Louis_ thought they were in love with each other. And honestly, it’s not that hard to believe. It was always LouisandHarry never Louis or Harry separately. They did hang out whenever they had free time and they did touch each other in a more than platonic type of way and they did sleep in the same bed and maybe they slept together and maybe Harry told Nick one drunken night. So Harry had no reason to be confused that Nick said that and really he should have expected it.

“No” Harry responds before cuddling up to Nick’s side. Nick doesn’t really respond to Harry’s response more as he responds to Harry’s first question, “Why? Who do you think you’re in love with?” Nick replies lightly stroking Harry’s [scalp](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33016500827/title-loved-with-a-love-that-was-more-than) when Harry mewls at the touch. “You, but it’s wishful thinking, because I don’t even know what love is, let alone how it feels to fall  _in_  it.” And it’s so muffled and it feels so private, Nick considers the thought that he really shouldn’t be hearing the words hesitantly (and slowly) falling out of Harry’s mouth.

Nick nods (he doesn’t answer Harry-can’t answer Harry.) and sits up egging Harry to follow his suit. “Come on, love. The party awaits us.” And Harry follows (though he’s really not sure why Grimmy’s throwing him a party  _before_  he turns 18, seeing as he can’t even legally drink yet).

They arrive at some club that Harry can’t bother to remember the name of about 10 minutes later. And soon (about 2 hours later) they’re running out of that same club. And in the next 20 minutes they somehow end up staggering (more like Nick’s staggering and Harry is struggling to keep him upright) through Nick’s flat. Nick’s face is pressed into the indent in Harry’s collar and Harry is tripping backwards attempting to get Nick to his room without falling over. “I’m really not that drunk, Harry.”

And Nick’s back in the bedroom with two wine glasses. “Your first legal drink. Cheers, babe.” Harry downs his wine in one sip and pulls Nick onto the bed next to him. “May I have a birthday cuddle, Nick?” Harry asks innocently opening his arms. “Since you asked politely and it  _is_  your birthday, I suppose so.”

It’s no later than 15 minutes when, “Do you still think you’re in love with me?” Nick whispers cuddling Harry a bit tighter. And Harry’s silent and Nick is sure he’s asleep before, “Yeah” is breathed out of Harry’s mouth and they both go to sleep with a smile that night.

~

Harry wakes up to the smell of Nick on his torso and the warmth of Nick on his neck and he likes it. He nudges Nick until he stirs. “Wake up, I want food.” And Nick mumbles something sounding like, ‘no, go make your own food.’ And Harry pouts, “But it’s my  _birthday_.” Nick (dramatically) sighs before sitting up, “Good morning, princess. Happy Birthday!” He exclaims, voice still rough from sleep. “Thank you, Nicholas. Now go makes me food.” Nick laughs before settling back into the duvet, “Harry, you know I’m a shit cook. And who wants shit cooking on their birthday.” Harry whines at Nick telling him that he has to “at least take me out for breakfast, it is my  _birthday_.”

Nick and Harry are sitting across from each at the small local bakery about a block from Nick’s flat. “Do you feel any different?” Nick asks chewing on a piece of his cinnamon roll. “No, not really.” And that’s that. They eat their breakfast in mostly silence added a few jokes thrown Harry’s way about him being a “man now” and how he has to “do man things.” They walk home in silence too, listening to the leaves rustling in quiet wind until, “Is it weird that I’m 18 and I’ve never been in love.” And Nick doesn’t really know what to say, “Love is in the heart of the beholder. Some kid told me that once.” And, “Niick.” Harry pleads, mostly with his eyes. And Nick sighs before “No, I don’t think so. It’s fine, really. You don’t  _have_ to fall in love, Harry. It’s not a fucking necessity of life.” Harry’s silent then, what’s there to say (and Harry spends the rest of the day with the boys partying and drinking and bullshitting).

And it’s suddenly two weeks later and Harry and Nick are laying on Nick’s couch, a bowl of weed next to them. The smoke circling throughout the air (a smell Harry knows will be there for days). And Harry thinks he might be in love a little bit. He even thinks it might be a little more than love, but what comes after love is what he really wonders. How he was granted to be apart of Nick Grimshaw’s life is honestly beyond him, but he couldn’t be more grateful. He feels like he stumbled upon this patch of real in a world of fakes and that’s probably the best part. The fact that Nick is so raw and unrefined is so much more attractive than it really should be. Nick is honest, brutally honest in a way that Harry finds comfort in. If he’s doing something wrong (or as Nick calls “pop star-like”) then he’ll tell him, no censors allowed. And really, Harry could go on and on listing the things he loves about Nick (from his perfectly sculpted quiff to his taste in music), but no one has got that sort of time.

And Nick’s always there,  _always_. When Harry would stumble into his flat after a fight with one of the boys (Louis, most likely), he would be standing at the door with a cuppa, open arms and ears to listen.

And it comes to that point where Harry can’t push down the hammering in his heart the flush of his body when Nick is close and he goes for it. He pushes him up to Nick and captures his lips in a kiss. And it’s like, time stops, because Harry is so ready for Nick to push him off (with either a disgusted look or laughter, he’s prepared for both, really). But when he doesn’t, Harry literally melts into the touch of Nick’s fingers grazing his almost nonexistent hips and Nick’s tongue in his mouth. Harry groans at the magic Nick’s tongue does to him and Nick just smirks and grinds on the younger boy (man now).

Soon Nick is ripping Harry’s jumper off (apparently now more eager than Harry) and undoing his jeans commanding him to “Take them off.” But Harry shakes his head and drops to his knees. He undoes Nick’s jeans in record time pulling them down along with his pants. He thumbs the head of Nick’s cock before inserting the whole thing in his mouth and he gags a bit when he hears Nick’s moan, but Nick is pulling his hair so he can’t be bothered. He’s eager for it, a bit too eager if you think about it, but he’s bobbing his head up and down at a fast speed, gagging more than he was at the begging. And Nick is scraping his scalp sweetly asking him to, “Calm down, love, I’m here.” And those few words are a hell of a lot of reassurance for Harry. And it’s such a strange time to need reassurance, but that sentence does it. And he calms down on the bobbing (not by much, because  _really_ ). And he swallows when Nick comes with a strangled sob and a breathy “Harry.” Harry lifts himself back onto the couch next to Nick as Nick’s hand shoots down to Harry’s prick.

And it doesn’t get much farther than snogging and groping, but Harry is perfectly fine with that. He comes with smile and a “fuck” and a choked “Nick” before his whole body goes jelly and he slides back into the warmth of Nick’s body. “You ruined my couch, pop star.” And Harry only smiles before falling into a sated sleep.

“I think I might be in love with you.” Is what Harry wakes up to and he’s sure he heard wrong. “Huh?” He answers groggily, in need of more sleep. He opens one eye to see the DJ cross legged in front of the couch staring up at him. “I said that I, Nicholas Peter Grimshaw, might be in love with you young Harold.” “Is that so? Because I am in love with you, old Nicholas.” “I am not old!” Nick exclaims jumping up from his previous position. Harry gets up and follows him into the kitchen. “I know.” “You better.” “I do.” And Nick turns around to kiss Harry and Harry dissolves into Nick’s mouth. “I’ve got work.” The DJ mumbles into Harry’s mouth and “Can I come with?” And Nick replies with a, “Don’t you always.” Harry dresses himself in Nick’s Dr. Dre shirt and his own jeans and shabby old white Converse (and Nick does not whimper at how fucking appealing Harry looks in his shirt).

Harry plays with all the buttons on the control and Nick scorns him, with love, of course. Nick dedicates some songs to  _his friend_  in the studio with him and Harry introduces a couple of skits. Then the show is over and Harry is driving Nick home. “Come over to mine?” Nick asks and Harry answers with a, “Don’t I always.” Mimicking Nick’s words from earlier.

Not a week later and it’s time for Harry to be go back to America for a bit. “It won’t be more than a week.” Harry promises into Nick’s chest. “I know.” Nick answer before scooting Harry off him demanding that he go pack. “See you later, yeah?” “Yeah.” And they seal it with a kiss.

No, Nick did not spend that whole week eating ice cream and complaining to Aimee that “I miss him, Aimee” and “has it been a week yet?” and “I can still smell him on my sheets” and “did I tell you how he ruined my couch with his spunk, he disgusts me” and “I’m in love with him, Aimee, do you not get it” and “Aimee, I want him, I miss him, I just wanna kiss him” until she just stops answering the phone. And no he does not cherish ever single tweet sent back and forth their way. He does not make three play lists dedicated to Harry. Except how he does.

And it’s when Nick is cuddled into his bed when Harry wraps an arm around his waist whispering a “Honey, I’m home” that Nick breaks and squeals (inside his head of course). Nick turns around in Harry’s arms, “Honey? I don’t know how I feel about honey.” And Harry smiles before positioning himself next to the British DJ, “What about boyfriend? Is that better?” Nick smiles, because yeah, that’s much better.

“How was your trip?” “Sub-par, missed you lots.” Harry replies nudging his curls into Nick’s face. “Good.” Is the only reply. And as Harry lies beside Nick, he knows he’s in love. “Are you sure you’re still in love with me?” Nick whispers into Harry’s curls. And Harry smiles before, “I’m sure. I’ve loved with a love that was more than love.” Nick laughs until, “My little prodigy, sleep.” And Harry obliges like he always does and always will and it’s nice, being cuddled into Nick’s body knowing his feelings are reciprocated.

 It’s really nice. 


End file.
